the single greatest figure

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

I love you, Rassilon.

[He sighs, but rolls his eyes and gives her a smile.] I love you, too, my Aleena.

[He wheels his chair around halfway, just to look at the other man.] Doctor. Good evening.

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

Yes, and?

[He frowns.]

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

Exactly! 

You’re learning.

He’s supposed to be my dog, though.

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

Only if it’s Poodle.

[He can’t help but snort.] But Poodle isn’t something else.

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

That is my name, sir.

[He sighs.] May I name him something else?

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

Yes, and?

Aleena.

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

Yes, and?

I don’t understand you.

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

Because I liked it.

But he’s not even a poodle.

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

She couldn’t help but grin a little in return at the curve of his lips. He hadn’t taken her comment to hearts, then; at the very least, he amused by her comment. At the most, he admired for it. She hoped it was the second option. 

As soon as the hand was out, Aleena was striding across the room. She lifted the front of her robes, ignoring how improper it might have been, so that she could do so without tripping. As soon as she was in front of him, the redhead dropped the robe. She took his hand in one of hers, leaning over to touch her forehead to it. 

The smile never left her face.

“I’ve been told I could expand it, when the time comes. But I’m happy, at the moment. A pleasure to meet you, Lord President.”

“The pleasure is mine, I assure you.”

He leaned down, touching his lips to he knuckles of the hand that had taken his. His wife next to him hid her scowl as best she could. “You look lovely in that gown, though I can tell you’re not used to it. Take a seat, if you like.” He released her hand, motioning to a chair.

“Now, Aleena, do you mind me asking,” and he really didn’t care if she minded, he was curious, so he didn’t really pause, “what interested you in the position you’ve been given? I haven’t seen many like you doing body guard work.”

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

Yes, and?

So… why is his name Poodle?

…if he’s a gift for me shouldn’t I be the one to name him, either way?

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

His name is Poodle.

…He’s not even a poodle.

[He huffs, wheeling himself outside to try and go for a walk (for lack of a better term).]

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

I just don’t think he meant this one.

Oops…?

…that is not a dog.

That’s some sort of immensely hairy rodent.

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

She swallowed hard at the question. Of course he would ask that. Of course he would; everyone else certainly had. From her mentor to the other Time Lords vying for this job, all had commented on her age. And, frankly, Aleena was sick of it. She was more than just her age.

She was five feet of energy and strength. Her looming had blessed her with more physical strength than most Time Lords and twice as much mental strength as her own mentor. It had also given her a little bit of a fiery temper.

“Well, you’re not exactly the newest star in the galaxy, are you, Lord President?”

Okay, so it had given her quite the temper.

One corner of her mouth lifted into a smile. She was a packaged deal; a mixture of adorable looks, fiery hair, and a quick mouth. And if he didn’t like that, then she was going to be on the streets as fast as she had been dragged into the council cambers.

“Aleena, my lord. Just Aleena.”

He couldn’t help but smirk at her little comeback, though he did not verbally acknowledge the fact that he admired her for it. Perhaps she wouldn’t be so bad after all. She had some fire in her; fire was always good. Then again, if it couldn’t be contained, there were bound to be issues…

“Contained”, not “controlled”, because fire could never be controlled.

Rassilon offered out his hand, a rare gesture from a man such as himself.

“Aleena, how lovely. Quite short, but lovely nonetheless. I expect you already know my name.”

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

For what seemed like a long, long moment, although it was barely a nanosecond, Aleena could not speak. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry; her chest had suddenly constricted. She had been prepared for this; she had been readied for past lunar cycle to meet Rassilon. She knew what to say and how to say it.

But as soon as she had seen his face, everything left her mind. She felt sick. She wanted to run out of the room and never show her face to anyone again. She was only three hundred and something, and yet she was standing in front of the Lord President.

It was as if the weight of her job had finally settled onto her shoulders.

Her instincts kicked in long before her mind did, however, and she flashed a smile. Aleena bowed her head politely, raised her eyes to meet his. 

“Good evening, Lord President.”

“You’re quite young, aren’t you?” he asked, not caring that his question lacked tact.

His wife beside him leaned back in her chair. He reached over, patted her hand. It was out of habit more than an actual attempt to comfort her. It was no secret that the two had grown distant over the past century.

Rassilon looked back to Aleena, his eyes skimming her over. Yes, she was young. And small. It seemed his ideas about the council were all but confirmed.

“What’s your name?”

loyaltyismygreatestflaw:

Aleena was anxious.

Could anyone blame her? Here she was, just barely three hundred seventy-five, and she was standing before the Council. It was not for crimes that she stood before them, though many had suspected, but for honor. She was to meet the Lord President today. She, a Brute from one of the smallest Houses, was to live the life of Rassilon’s shadow.

It was more than she could have ever hoped for - more than she could have ever wanted. All throughout the Academy  she had been told she was going to fail or be expelled. She had failed many of her classes and only just squeaked by on others. She had spent many days just fighting in the dorms or on the streets because class and work did not interest her. The only class she excelled in had been learning to fly the TARDIS.

Perhaps it had been because she had wanted to escape Gallifrey, once upon a time. But now she had no reason to leave. Now, she had reason to stay.

Unable to help herself, Aleena shifted a bit. She had been dressed by her mentor, decorated by her mother. The robes the Council had ordered for her were stuffy, stiff, uncomfortable. She felt uncomfortable. She felt like a painted doll, especially with the stuff on her face. But they had both said it would be a good idea, just this once. She needed to make quite the first impression.

Something had to make up for her age.

The doors in front of her gave a little hiss, then pulled apart. Immediately, her shoulders stiffened. She straightened her back, lifted her chin.

Showtime.

Rassilon had been less than eager to meet his new bodyguard. In fact, you could say he was dreading it; the last few that had been chosen for him had been sub-par at best, completely terrible at worst, and if this one didn’t work out he’d have to insist on choosing one himself. He was beginning to wonder if — and actually harbor the suspicion that — someone on the in his council was trying to dispose of him by giving him the most incompetent help they could find. He wouldn’t put it past them. They hardly concealed their hatred for him.

He sighed softly, leaning back in his chair. He wouldn’t mind dying. Not really. Not at this age. It would ease the tedium.

The president looked up as, finally, the Time Lady entered the room. One look at her face, and he didn’t even have to glance at his wife to know she’d be showing her distaste. Rassilon’s new bodyguard was stunning, by all accounts, but his face never deviated from its constant bored expression.

“Good evening.”

Why.

…aleena